


Having The Time of Your Life

by Sokkas_First_Fangirl



Series: I Lay My Life Before You [26]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alpha Brian May, Alpha Roger Taylor (Queen), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Best Friends, Beta John Deacon, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Party, Early Queen (Band), Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Happy Birthday Freddie, Omega Freddie Mercury, Pack Feels, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26302432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokkas_First_Fangirl/pseuds/Sokkas_First_Fangirl
Summary: They didn't know much about Freddie's family, but they knew they'd never made much of a fuss about his birthday. They knew that, since he arrived in England, Freddie had celebrated alone.And that just wouldn't do.**It's Freddie's birthday. Planning would be a lot easier if the boys could stop bitching at each other for five minutes.OR: The boys just love Freddie and want him to have the best day possible.
Relationships: John Deacon & Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor
Series: I Lay My Life Before You [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1256678
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49





	Having The Time of Your Life

**Author's Note:**

> For this one, I picked songs that remind me of Freddie. Not necessarily just Queen songs, but songs that bring him to mind in general.
> 
> Happy birthday to our lover of life, singer of songs, Freddie Mercury. Wherever you are, I hope that Jim and Joe, and everyone really, are spoiling you rotten 💕

****

**September 1st, London, 1971** **  
****_“Lately I been, I been losin' sleep, dreamin' about the things that we could be. But baby, I been, I been prayin' hard; said, ‘No more countin' dollars, we'll be countin' stars. Yeah, we'll be countin' stars.’” -Counting Stars,_ ** **OneRepublic**

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when Roger asked, “So what are we getting Fred for his birthday?” but it was. Truth be told, Brian had no idea what to get him. Even Deacy looked mildly startled.

“I don’t know,” Brian admitted. They’d been friends for nearly a year now; they’d met Freddie after his birthday, so it wasn’t like they’d celebrated it before, and Freddie himself had made no mention of his upcoming birthday. They didn’t know much about his family, but he’d let slip that they’d never made much of a fuss about it. They also knew that, ever since Freddie arrived in England, he hadn’t done much for his birthday, beyond maybe buying himself a favourite snack, or something nice to wear, or a pretty decoration for his old flat.

And that just wouldn’t do.

“I don’t know,” Brian repeated, already thinking a mile a minute. “But we’ll think of something.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


They hadn’t exactly left themselves with plenty of time to plan, but they were nothing if not creative. The main issue, at first, was not raising Freddie’s suspicions. That meant they couldn’t discuss anything at their flat, lest he overhear or walk in. Even discussing it during rehearsals was tricky; Freddie would walk in and they’d have to quickly shut up, so of course he noticed. Brian saw the suspicious quirk of his eyebrows, the narrowing of his eyes. Their conversations became quick and hushed, and they each agreed to make their own list of ideas and share it later. It was easier that way.

But once they had those lists ready, the problem became _agreeing_ on anything. Brian had assumed it would be easy: they were Freddie’s best friends, they were three creative men. Perhaps a bit too creative.

“We have a _budget,_ Roger,” Brian said tiredly. He tapped Roger’s list with his pen. “This just isn’t realistic.”

“Freddie loves fashion!” Roger said defensively. “And he loves Biba! If we all pile our money together-”

“One present from the three of us doesn’t seem fair,” John piped up. He twisted his hair around his fingers, biting his lips. “We got a present each on our birthdays.” At that, Roger deflated.

“You’re right,” he said. He sat back down, a touch reluctantly. 

“I could get him a record or two,” John said.

“Which one exactly? He already has plenty,” Roger said. John huffed defensively, but Brian was inclined to agree. He wouldn’t be too sure which records to get either; if there was one thing Freddie had plenty of, it was records. Well...He was a Hendrix fan, a Beatles fan. Surely they could find some merchandise?

Neither of his friends looked too impressed with that idea.

“And what’s on your list?” Roger asked, scowling. “A watch? Very clever. He’ll just think that’s passive aggressive.”

“I’m not being passive aggressive!” Brian protested. “At least it’s practical!”

“Because he’s got shit timekeeping,” Roger said bluntly. “He’ll think you’re making fun of him.”

“Don’t be so paranoid!” Brian turned to Deacy for support, but their resident Beta looked concerned. Sighing, Brian crossed it off his list.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**September 2nd, Kensington Market…** **  
****_“Then I'd still be where I started, bread and butter for a smile. Well, I sold a million mirrors in a shopping alleyway, but I never saw my face in any window any day. Now they say your folks are telling you ‘Be a super star!’ But I tell you, ‘Just be satisfied, stay right where you are!’” -Keep Yourself Alive,_ ** **Queen**

If nothing else, you could always rely on Kensington Market. Well, in theory you could.

Frankly, John was feeling pretty lost. Nothing seemed good enough. Freddie had tried so hard for each of their birthdays, he’d tried hard to make them _special,_ he’d found perfect presents for each of them...John couldn’t stand the thought of letting him down.

They were broke. No getting around that. It wasn’t like they could take Freddie anywhere fancy; they couldn’t afford something expensive. They couldn’t buy Freddie a diamond necklace, or a designer outfit. But John was determined to find the perfect present.

The decorations had been surprisingly straightforward. Freddie loved yellow, he loved bright colours, he loved beautiful things. They’d found yellow streamers, Brian had found a small bag of glittery confetti, and Roger found some balloons. John found the _Happy Birthday_ banner; it was a blue, a rather dark blue, and he suddenly felt paranoid about even that. He hoped it wasn’t too dark. He hoped Freddie would like it.

So the decorations were sorted out, but that left them struggling with presents and food. 

John looked around the market with a frown. There had to be _something_ here.

  
  
  
  
  
  


That first day was a total bust. They went around each stall, and John had to admit, they just _bitched_ at each other. They complained and griped, they disagreed on _everything._ They all wanted this to be perfect, and they all had different ideas on what _perfect_ meant.

They didn’t even realise how late it had gotten until they spotted people shutting up their stalls.

_“Fuck!”_ Roger kicked the nearest bin. “Please tell me we didn’t just waste the whole day?”

“We did.” Brian looked utterly defeated. “We’re- we’re bad at this, huh?”

John felt close to snapping, to just jumping on the tube and leaving them behind, but he managed to speak calmly, a touch coldly; “Here’s an idea. We come back tomorrow and we come _separately._ We won’t shop together. Deal?”

Brian and Roger nodded glumly. “Deal,” they said together. Cursing that he was empty-handed, John led the way to the tube, grinding his teeth, fists clenched.

Not surprisingly, Freddie was suspicious when they trailed home. He sat on the sofa, sketching new logos for the band.

“And where did you three darlings get to?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“The market,” Roger said, and John wanted to hit him. But Roger continued smoothly; “Thought we’d find some stage gear.”

Freddie looked at them and their lack of purchases with amusement. “Hm, and how’d that work out?”

“Badly,” Roger said, grinning the way he only ever did for Freddie. He flopped onto the sofa next to him with a dramatic sigh. “We need your wisdom, Fred. Us poor sods are lost without you.”

Freddie laughed and pinched his cheek. Roger jokingly grimaced, but allowed it. “Oh, poor lovies,” Freddie cooed. “The big bad world of clothing was too much for you?”

“I admit defeat,” John said with a smile. Freddie grinned at him; he quickly covered his mouth, but his eyes were glittering with amusement. Brian’s whole expression softened as he took the armchair. John sat next to Roger, and he had to admit he still felt anxious about this whole thing- but leave it to Freddie to make him forget that, even if it was just for a few moments.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**September 3rd…** **  
****_“It's so easy to make believe, it seems you're livin' in a dream. Don't you see that what you need is standing in front of you? I want something that I want, something that I tell myself I need; something that I want, and I need everything I see.” -Something That I Want,_ ** **Grace Potter**

It was much easier to look around by himself; Roger had to give Deacy credit for that idea. They’d been at each other’s throats. At least this way, hopefully, they could all _concentrate._

Maybe they shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on themselves- but it was for _Freddie,_ and Roger hated the idea of messing this up. Call him a sap (and plenty of people would for this), but he wanted to make sure Freddie knew they loved him. That, even if others didn’t, _they_ cared that it was his birthday. They cared that he was here. They _wanted_ him here.

And maybe that made him a piss-poor Alpha, but who gave a shit? If being a good Alpha meant never showing affection for his friends, for his best friend, then what was the point?

It still took him ages to find anything. In maybe the fifth stall he visited, the very one Brian had dragged him past yesterday, Roger found the first thing that really stuck out to him: a long, soft white scarf with a somewhat jagged black pattern at the end, and black and white tassels. It was cute, it was soft as hell, it looked like the type of thing that could be worn with anything.

_Perfect._

Roger marched out of the stall with a smile on his face, the scarf in a red paper bag. Not a bad start, but he didn’t intend on just getting a scarf. No, he’d find something to go with this, so help him God.

Perhaps it was his good mood, perhaps it was the sudden optimism, but Roger quickly managed to find a set of paints and new brushes. Truthfully, he’d been intending to find a shirt, or maybe a jacket- something to _actually_ go with the scarf. But then again, hadn’t Freddie complained he was nearly out of paint?

Roger snatched up the paints and brushes with a grin. Satisfied, he went to the nearest cafe and waited inside, out of the cold. All he could do for now was hope Brian and John had managed to find something too, because they were rapidly running out of time.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Brian arrived not long after him, and he looked far too pleased with himself. 

“What did you get?” Roger asked eagerly; for Brian to be grinning so widely, it surely had to be good.

Absolutely, beaming, giddy with glee, Brian pulled a Polaroid camera out of his bag. It looked quite battered; not even second-hand, more like third or fourth hand...But it had to work, for Brian to look so happy. And it was right up Freddie’s alley.

“Fucking hell, Bri,” Roger breathed. “How much did that _cost?_ ”

“All my money,” Brian admitted with a sheepish grin. “But it’s perfect!”

“Well- fuck. You’ve got me there. It is.” Brian was looking at the damn thing like it was a priceless treasure. Well, if there was one thing Freddie and Brian had in common, it was their love of taking photos. Roger didn’t doubt that Fred would love it.

They waited ages on John; by the time he turned up, the market was about to close. By then, Brian was fidgeting anxiously in his seat, and Roger was half-expecting poor Deacs to turn up empty-handed again- but no. He walked along the pavement, swinging two bags, smiling to himself.

They rushed to meet him outside, because by now the barista’s pointed looks were too obvious to ignore. As soon as the door closed behind them, the girl began to put the chairs away and dragged a mop out. Roger couldn’t find it in himself to feel apologetic, too excited now.

“Well?” he demanded, as soon as Deacy reached them.

In response, John held the bags out, grinning. Inside one was a box of scented candles and a whole bunch of postcards of famous artworks: Starry Night, Venus de Milo, Mona Lisa, David, and some that Roger vaguely recognised from Freddie’s college books, but didn’t know the names of, but they were beautiful, and that was what mattered. The other box had an image of a cat ornament, only about as big as Freddie’s hand: a white cat with bright blue eyes and a pink collar. Next to it was a box of-

“Are those _Christmas lights?_ ” Brian asked.

John shrugged sheepishly, awkwardly. “They’re pretty,” he said, not quite looking them in the eye. “I figured he could- you know, drape them around his headboard, or pin them to the wall with the pictures.”

“He’ll love it,” Roger said, clapping him on the back. He felt almost ridiculously relieved. 

The decorations were sorted, the presents were sorted, and they still had enough left over for some take-away and drinks, just about.

All Roger could do for now was hope that Freddie would like it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**September 5th, 1971…** **  
****_“I wish that I could witness all your joy and all your pain; but until my moment comes, I'll say, ‘I, I did it all. I, I did it all! I owned every second that this world could give; I saw so many places, the things that I did. Yeah, with every broken bone, I swear I lived!’” -I Lived,_ ** **OneRepublic**

Freddie wasn’t stupid. He knew his friends were up to _something,_ but truth be told he didn’t twig it was for his _birthday._ For _him._

His birthday had never been a particularly big deal. In boarding school, his friends would sneak sweets into the dorm; chocolates, mostly, and maybe get whoever they could to sign a card. Once he was taken out of boarding school, his parents would try to push _suitable_ presents on him: traditional Omega clothing, guidebooks on decorum, maybe something to do with music if he was lucky. And once he arrived in England? Well, who would he celebrate with? His old manager at the pub, good old Collin, would often pat him on the back, wish him a happy birthday and give him a free drink after closing, but for the most part Freddie had kept to himself. His birthday presents were from himself, to himself; something nice to wear or something to brighten up his old flat, some snacks. Pretty simple, and often cheap.

He wasn’t surprised when he woke up alone in his and John’s room; John was an early bird, Freddie most certainly wasn’t.

No, what took him by surprise was the loud cry of _“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”_ as soon as he entered the living room. He nearly fell back in surprise, blinking rapidly; as his sleepy vision cleared, he took in the sudden _brightness_ of their drab little living room: the bright yellow streamers hanging from the ceiling and walls, the _Happy Birthday_ banner, and the confetti sprinkled across the coffee table- and on the coffee table was a cake, some plates, and a pot of tea.

“I-” Freddie broke off, suddenly voiceless. He didn’t know _what_ to say.

He felt dangerously close to crying, which was ridiculous really; this was _nice,_ this was _lovely._ His friends had done something kind, so why did he feel so choked up?

“Happy birthday,” Brian said again, a little weakly this time. He gestured to the pile of wrapped parcels next to their battered telly. “We got presents.”

It snapped Freddie into action. He ran to the three of them and tried to pull them all into his arms at once, his eyes stinging, grinning so widely it hurt.

“You didn’t have to,” he said.

“‘Course we did, don’t be daft,” Roger said, lightly slapping him on the back of the head. Deacy was hugging him so tightly it was nearly uncomfortable, and Brian’s hair was in his eyes, Freddie felt quite squashed, and he didn’t ever want to let go of them.

“Happy birthday,” John said, a touch shyly, but his grip was still tight. 

“Thank you, darlings,” Freddie said. He didn’t move. None of them did. Excited as he was, the presents could wait a moment. 

“Do you like it?” Brian asked.

“He hasn’t even opened the presents yet, Bri,” Roger said.

“Oh, bugger!” Freddie pulled back and, laughing, scooped the presents up. “Well, let’s fix that!”

  
  
  
  
  
  


They used quite a lot of film taking pictures just that day. Pictures that ended up stuck to the walls of their rooms and even some in the kitchen. Freddie and Roger wrapping the scarf around both their necks; Deacy with a mouthful of cake, Brian mid-laugh. Countless shots of Freddie opening John and Roger’s presents, some unfortunately blurry photos of the decorations, and rather unflattering photos of them all eating their take-away that evening. There were shots of Freddie strutting around in the new scarf, John fast asleep on the sofa, a beer can by his dangling hand. Roger telling a story, gesturing so wildly his hands were a blur, and Brian trying to pin the banner back in place when it fell off the wall.

Finally, using Brian’s long arms to their advantage, they tried to take a photo of all four of them and failed miserably; the left half of John’s face was cut out, Roger was mid blink, Freddie was nearly hidden behind Brian, and the top half of Brian’s face was cut off. But they were clearly all beaming, stuck in close together. 

They ended up trying again, all crowded in Freddie and John’s room, standing in front of their full-length mirror. It worked much better this time; they were all clearly visible, all grinning fit to burst. There was a tea stain on Brian’s shirt, some icing on the corner of Roger’s mouth; Freddie’s hair was a tangled mess and John had to bend awkwardly to fit into the shot. Messy, uncoordinated, but so wholly themselves. Just enjoying themselves. 

That one went right above Freddie’s bed.

  
  
  
  
  
**_“You held your head like a hero on a history book page. It was the end of a decade, but the start of an age. Long live the walls we crashed through, all the kingdom lights shined, just for me and you. I was screaming, ‘Long live all the magic we made!’ And bring on all the pretenders, one day we will be remembered.” -Long Live,_ ** **Taylor Swift**

****

**Author's Note:**

> Partially inspired by the fact that I always stress myself out over giving my friends the best presents possible 😅
> 
> Happy birthday, Freddie, we love you! Thank you for everything 💕


End file.
